


The First Son

by tcs1121



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 19:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5428367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcs1121/pseuds/tcs1121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since I killed him, I'm his heir. I am the First Son. I have to either pay for the crime with my head, or take his place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Son

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** Special thanks to my artist and beta for making this gift a two-fer. Fic _and_ art!  
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters were created by Eric Kripke and do not belong to me. No money exchanges hands. All for fun. 
> 
> Written for the [SPN-J2 Xmas Exchange ](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/) for [iampatchwork](http://iampatchwork.livejournal.com). I used the werewolf/fantasy creature claim and A/B/O long overdue claiming prompts. A guilty pleasure I've always wanted to try.

Sam applied the salve to Dean's palms before working on his feet. His hands and fingers were bad enough, but the balls of Dean's feet and the pads of his toes were chewed up messes. Every time Dean got back, he could barely walk.

Through trial and error, Sam came up with a recipe of fish oil combined with crushed dried acacia, eucalyptus, and arnica leaves. It smelled terrible, but it seemed to ease the pain and aid the healing process. Dean whined, but stayed still as Sam dabbed the herbed oil between Dean's toes. Sam couldn't understand why Dean's hands and feet kept getting sliced up.

"How's that feel?" Sam wiped his hands on the motel towel before washing his hands in the sink. He reached for the gauze and adhesive tape and looked around for his scissors.

Dean blinked once or twice and carefully moved his fingers and toes. 

With a relieved breath, he nodded and said, "Not bad, Sammy. Thanks for doing this." He sighed. "We need to research more. This shouldn't be happening."

"You're right, but until we figure it out, we'll keep you wrapped." Sam sat on the bed and arranged the supplies. "You'll be fine by tomorrow, anyway."

"Shouldn't be happening at all," Dean mumbled before yawning. "I'm still so hot."

And he was. Dean was furnace hot—sweat soaked his hairline and dripped down the side of his neck. Sam positioned the portable fan he brought so that it aimed just above Dean's body and turned it on. 

Dean lay perfectly still on one of the two double beds, naked, except for the gauze bandaging. Dean stretched his arms and legs out to the side to help cool him down. Sam bit his lip and concentrated on wrapping Dean's left hand, rather than watching the beads of sweat curl their way down the cut of Dean's hip to soak into the clean, off-white sheets.

"Yeah, that's good, Sam," Dean moaned and spread his arms and legs wider. 

When Sam looked up, there was still the feral look in his brother's eyes, and, damn if that wasn't a good look for him. Dean hissed in a breath, raked his glowing green eyes up and down Sam's body and said, "That's real good." And surprised him by nipping Sam's shoulder.

"Cut it out." Sam tried to keep his voice steady which was difficult with Dean filling the room with his pheromones. "I'm trying to work here."

"Sammy…" Dean growled deep in the back of his throat and licked his lips.

"You know what's going on, you know how you get. Keep a hold of yourself and wait 'til tomorrow. It'll be over by then."

"I don't think so." Dean dropped his legs out to the side as his impressive cock began filling. "Not when it comes to you."

Sam shook his head and placed the last bit of tape. "Go to sleep. See you in the morning." He drew the sheet up to Dean's chin. A look of disappointment crossed Dean's face before he closed his eyes and fell fast asleep.

~~*~~*~~

Sam woke to the sound of the shower running, the scent of coffee, two McDonald's hash browns and an Egg McMuffin sitting on the tiny bedside table. Oily, bloody bandages had been thrown into the trash and, surprisingly, Dean's bed was neatly made.

Dean was singing so loud, that Sam could make out the rousing lyrics through the shower downpour.

"Workin' 9 to 5, what a way to make a livin'. Barely gettin' by, it's all takin' and no givin'. They just use your mind, and they never give you credit. It's enough to drive you crazy if you let it!"

Sam smiled and stacked the two hash browns before biting into them.

The water turned off, the shower curtain pulled back noisily and the chorus continued, although a little muffled due to Dean toweling off.

Sam blew across the surface of his coffee before sipping.

Dean stepped out of the bathroom, cinched his towel tight around his hips, took in a deep breath and gave Sam a brilliant smile. 

"Mornin' Sunshine."

Sam threw the hash browns wrappers at him. 

Dean's lightning fast reflexes failed him as he tried grabbing them out of the air. When the paper wad hit his forehead, Sam noted the clean, smooth skin on his palms, and assumed that the soles of his feet were just as pristine.

"How are you feeling?" Sam popped the last of the Egg McMuffin into his mouth.

"Great. Like always." Dean turned away and quickly dressed. "Did I…uh…say or do anything embarrassing when I got back?"

"Nothing different from your usual embarrassing self. What do you remember?"

Dean shook his head as he tied his shoes. "Hot. And my feet hurt."

Sam nodded and sipped again. "Then, it's all good, man." He slid the morning paper over where Dean could see. "I think we have our choice of cases. One…" Sam pointed to a small item on page seven, and read aloud, "A wounded deer, bleeding profusely, walked into a New York Hospital Emergency Room. Emergency staff saves deer's life." He raised his eyes expectantly. "So, like that one?"

"What? Supernatural deer who know how to get medical help without insurance?"

Sam shrugged.

"What else ya got?" Dean sipped Sam's coffee.

Sam shuffled through the stack of newspapers. "Here. A passenger on Oceanic Airlines flight 722 from Miami to Detroit bit five fellow passengers before being subdued by a Yoga instructor."

"Bit, like biting bit? With regular teeth?"

Sam nodded. "Like biting bit."

Dean cocked his head to the side. "That's better, but still thin. We might want to investigate the Yoga instructor, though." He snickered, buttoning his shirt. "Anything else?"

Sam placed a neatly folded article on top of the stack, but spoke without reading. "Jefferson, Wisconsin. A man named Sal Pintaro, spotted a strange, hair-covered creature off of Highway 18 rummaging around in an old burial ground. It was reported that the creature looked to be half man, and half dog, spoke in a growls and smelled like rotting meat."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Why didn't you show me this one first?"

"I like to work for it." Sam threw all the other papers in the trash and smoothed out the article from the local Wisconsin paper, _The News Record Herald_. "So, Wisconsin?"

"Why, exactly, Sam? What do you think we'll get out of it?"

"You said it yourself last night that we needed to research this."

"I don't remember saying anything."

"You did. You wanted to see if we could solve the mystery of your bloody toes. That shit's gross, by the way. And," Sam said evenly, "to find other answers as well."

Dean sat heavily on the bed and said, "There's no cure for this, Sam."

"I know. I know there's no cure. But maybe you'll find a place where you can be safe, and, you know, not be the only one. Maybe a family and a home. Isn't that something you've always wanted?"

"I have a home, I have a family." 

"Okay, then maybe they have an answer to your torn up hands and feet."

Dean sighed and shook his head. "You're my family."

"Always, and I'm not suggesting otherwise." Sam sat on the bed next to him. "How about we consider this a fact finding mission? We've only ever known Were lore from the Hunter's perspective. There's a lot we don't know. Were packs are hard to pin down, but I think we may have a shot in Wisconsin."

"What makes you say that?" 

Sam fired up his laptop, clicked a couple of times and turned the screen to face Dean. 

Dean scanned the page. "Third sighting this year. Not quite the same description of hair and growling and rotting meat, but close enough." He unconsciously rubbed his hands together.

"And all of them somewhere near Route 18 in Wisconsin." Sam closed the lid. "There's got to be a lot of them clustered there if random people have reported seeing them."

"Sloppy," Dean muttered.

"Maybe you can teach them a thing or two about being stealthy." Sam tried a smile. "So, do you want to go now, or do you want to wait three weeks for a full moon?"

"I'm thinking now, it's going to be getting cold soon, and it's better to get up there before we freeze our asses off. Well, you. Your ass would freeze off." Dean turned away and asked, casually, "Do you really think those are Weres near Jefferson, Wisconsin?" 

"A lot of American Were lore is centered in Wisconsin," Sam said. "Isn't it our job to find these things out?"

"Yeah, sounds like family business to me." It was obvious to Sam's ear that Dean was trying not to sound hopeful. 

~~*~~*~~

The Impala slowed to a halt along the side of U.S. Route 18. It was unseasonably warm for the middle of November, but at seven-thirty in the evening, it was dark and empty. Sam counted two cars all evening. One that passed them and one that overtook them. 

They had passed through the city of Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin, pronounced by the residents as Prare do Sheen, almost an hour ago, when Dean saw the road marker indicating the historic, half hidden burial ground. 

Dean's eyesight had always been keen, but in the overwhelming Daylight Saving Darkness, there was no way in hell that Sam would have seen that tiny, rusted sign hanging off of one bolt. Dean did, and pulled over. The site, according to the newspaper article, was around fifty yards from the edge of the pavement.

They lit their sturdy mag lights and got out. The shoulder of the roadway immediately turned to gravel and then into crunchy dead leaves. As they neared the graveyard, Dean's body stiffened and he held up a hand. He sniffed the air and turned slowly.

"They're here."

Sam cut the light and dropped into a crouch; his system pumped adrenalin directly into his bloodstream, putting him on high alert. Heart pounding, Sam narrowed his gaze on Dean, who appeared calm and…interested.

Dean sniffed the air again and turned in a circle, eyeing each area his flashlight illuminated. A lonely howl echoed off in the unseen distance and only then did Dean stiffen before cutting off his light.

"Get in the car." Dean sounded almost matter-of-fact.

Sam didn't ask why. He spun around and ran back to the Impala expecting Dean to follow.

Dean, however, stayed put. He held his hands out and tilted his head up. It was dark and the only ambient light came from the stars, but Sam saw clearly enough what was happening. He'd seen it before, too many times, but this time was different. This time there was no moon.

Dean fell to the ground and went to his knees. The material of Dean's clothing ripped at the seams and the popping sound of bones breaking and miraculously re-knitting was almost as loud as Dean's mournful keening. He twitched and jerked on the frosted grass as if in seizure as his graceful fingers elongated onto claws and then snapped back into paws. His rear legs stretched then constricted into tight haunches. The muscles of his flanks tremored with the strain of this new anatomical arrangement. Dean raised his head as his muzzle grew, opening his massive jaws, howling as if in pain. 

He curled into a fetal position as first the undercoat, than the top coat of wiry golden-blond fur split through the skin. 

Dean stood tall and glared at Sam with glowing green eyes. His tail stood at attention and his hackles were raised in readiness. He howled again, but not in pain

He growled, sniffed the air, and circled in front of Sam with slow, protective movements. Ears pricked and eyes alert, seeing through the night in ways that Sam could not. 

Sam's breath caught in his throat. Dean was magnificent. Graceful and deadly at the same time.

The change was barely complete when Sam heard howling approaching from the dark plains. At first there were two wailing voices, then four, then too many for Sam to count. Yowls and yips came from all around. Sam covered his ears and yelled over to Dean, "What's going on?"

Dean stopped pacing and his hackles smoothed into the fur of his withers. He turned, barked at Sam and sped off into the darkness, his powerful haunches pushing him into a majestic gallop as the pads of his forepaws slammed into the ground just as his hind paws dug into the dirt to propel himself forward. A chorus of wolf cries, roars, and snarls grew into a wild baying crescendo, and then, silence.

Sam looked at his watch, and after two hours freezing in the Impala's driver's seat, he reluctantly started her up and drove back to Prairie du Chien.

~~*~~*~~ 

Sam woke to the sound of running water and smell of fresh brewed coffee.

"How did you know where I was?" Sam rubbed his eyes and breathed in the scent of cinnamon buns and chocolate donuts.

"Dean told us."

Sam jumped up from his bed and leveled his silver-filled Colt between the eyes of a tall American Indian. He wore a loose fitting denim shirt and well-worn blue jeans. His hair was white and his skin was wrinkled, but his deep brown eyes were alight as they darted around the garish motel room with precise ease. 

"Where's Dean?"

"He is fine and wants you to come. He said to bring donuts." He held out the pastry bag like a peace offering.

"Who are you?"

"I am Raymond Greendeer. I will take you to your brother."

Sam's gaze and aim didn't falter. Greendeer put the bag down and said, "Or not."

Sam took his finger from the trigger, but held tight to his firearm. "Where did you take him?"

Greendeer smiled and said, "We did not take him, he followed us. Followed us home to the Tipiuru'koke."

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"But he cannot be home without you. Dean is Clear Blue Sky, son of the Clan, one of us, and he wants you."

"My brother is a Winchester and everything else you're saying is gibberish."

Greendeer frowned. A low growl rumbled in his chest and his fingers grew into claws. "Come with me, now." 

Sam brought his weapon to bear, "I know what you are, and these silver bullets are aimed square at your heart." He cocked the trigger.

Greendeer sighed and his claws retracted into normal fingers. He picked up the donut bag.

"Leave your guns. You will have no need of them." Greendeer stared into Sam's eyes. "Let us go to your brother, there is a story to tell. On my oath, you will be safe." 

Sam lowered his gun. He knew that they had Dean, and going with Greendeer would take Sam closer to retrieving his brother. As much as it went against his better judgement, Sam raised his arms, showing Greendeer every movement as he carefully put the Colt on the floor, emptied his pockets of bullets, and the hunting knife he kept on him. He fished out the small silver knife from his boot, and placed it on the top of the bureau.

Everything in Sam's training said to take the knife, but if he did, the wolf would know there was silver on Sam. 

"That's all I have," Sam said.

"I know." Greendeer turned his back to Sam and opened the door. "We'll take your car."

~~*~~*~~

The first things Sam saw were rows of small, brightly colored cottages lining a roughly paved street. He was amazed at the sheer number of them. Tidy homes with neatly kept yards on separate plots of land in the middle the barren Wisconsin plains. Sam was also surprised to see that there was nothing preternatural about them. 

As the Impala slowly drove through the compound, the residents came out and stood in their doorways. Young children ran through the backyards, followed by, what looked like, packs of dogs, wolves, ranging from small, stumbling puppies to gray-muzzled seniors. 

Greendeer took Sam to a bright blue bungalow with red doors at the end of one street. He knocked on the door and spoke to a tall, beautiful woman with long, black hair in a language Sam didn't recognize. She held two bloody rags in her hands and sniffed the air before turning her eyes on Sam.

"This is Susan Little Hare she will take you to Clear Blue Sky."

"No." Sam held up his hand. "I'm looking for my brother. We came for answers. Is he here?"

Susan Little Hare threw the rags in the trash. "He is here. Are you coming with me or not?"

Greendeer nudged Sam. "Go with her. Your questions will be answered."

Susan led Sam into the back bedroom. Dean lay on the bed, naked except for the gauze around his hands and feet. 

"Why do his hands and feet still bleed?"

"He's a powerful and impatient runner." Little Hare gave Dean a look Sam couldn't interpret. "Impatience makes him bleed."

"Hey Sam." Dean rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. "I see you've met Susan."

Sam recognized the feral gleam in Dean's eyes. 

"She took care of me last night." He smiled over at her. "And this morning."

Anger and jealousy warred within Sam as Susan smirked at Dean. 

"But, I wanted you, Sammy," Dean whispered. "I wanted you."

"Dean, what's going on, here?"

"Sammy, come here. They told me that they know me." Dean reached a bandaged hand out to Sam. "They were waiting for me."

Sam sat on the edge of the bed and folded his arms. "What do you mean they know you?"

"Everywhere we go, everything we do—it's about the lore, isn't it?" Dean stretched out on his back and yawned. He held his arms above his head, and jutted his hips up, cock already half hard.

"What do you mean, it's about the lore?" Sam looked anywhere but at his brother's dick.

"Their lore. They _knew_ I was going to be in that field last night, and they were waiting for me." Dean rolled on his side and stroked up and down Sam's arm. Sam tried not to notice Dean's cock filling. "I'm kinda like a prophet or something."

"You did _not_ let them think you were their prophet, did you?" Sam shook his head and closed his eyes. "You are a hunter who had the terrible misfortune of getting bitten…"

"They knew I was coming." Dean raised his voice. "They knew I'd be here. Why do you think I changed when there wasn't a full moon?"

"Yeah, how did that happen?"

"Turns out, I'm one of those rare 'non-lunar's." Dean absently licked at his bloody fingertips. "I can shift anytime I need to, anytime I want to. That was part of the prophecy." 

Dean's whole being had an unnatural glow. "I fulfilled their prophecy, that's why I was called here."

"When were you called to be here? I showed you a _newspaper article_."

Dean grinned. "I was here right on the money, too. I was at the exact right place at the exact right time. At least that's what Greendeer said." Dean's voice dropped to a soft purr. "And since you were the one who came up with the place, you are a part of it, too."

Dean reached over and snaked his hand into Sam's lap. He didn't move. He just let Dean's hand lay there, inches from his own dick.

"Dean, you don't belong here. You don't have a drop of American Indian blood in you. You're from Kansas. Who do these people think you are, anyway?" 

Sam could feel the heat radiating off of Dean as Dean inched his way closer into Sam's personal space. 

"I am Clear Blue Sky, First Son of the Tipiuru'koke Clan." Dean preened. "I'm kind of a celebrity."

"No, you're not. You are Dean Winchester, a hunter who had the misfortune of getting bitten by a Werewolf when we were hunting in Louisiana. And by the way, that's nowhere near Wisconsin."

"Yeah, but the Were that got me was from here. He turned me. In the eyes of the Clan, that makes me his son. I have a place here."

"You are John Winchester's son, and you don't belong here. Besides you killed that Were. They should be hunting you down rather than worshiping you." Sam stood and opened the duffle he'd been carrying over his shoulder. "Here're your clothes, we're getting out of here."

"They're not going to let me go. And besides…" Dean breathed deep. "I don't want to."

"What do you mean you don't want to go?" Sam paced angrily. "What happened to me being your home and family?"

Dean stared with unblinking eyes.

Sam took in a breath. "Look, we came for information, we came for knowledge, we didn't come for you to stay and what? Mate with one of the locals?"

"Yeah, it is. That's exactly what I'm here for. After I got turned and killed that Were, his line ended. No descendants. Damon Raintree was his name, and he was special to the Clan. Since I killed him, I'm his heir. I am the First Son. I have to either pay for the crime with my life, or take his place. Because I'm his "son," they named me Clear Blue Sky after the original First Son. I'm soon to be their alpha leader."

"No, you're not. We'll find a way out."

"And," Dean raised his hand. "I have to take a mate and my _place_ as protector of the clan."

"No, you don't…"

"Yes, he does." Raymond Greendeer's voice was soft, but powerful. "Clear Blue Sky is ours. You," he pointed to Sam, "can stay, or leave, but the First Son is ours. If he refuses or tries to escape, we will send you home with your brother's head in your hands."

Sam bit his tongue, looking at Dean. Dean nodded and stood to his full, naked height. "Go on, Sam. Where else am I going to go, anyway, eh? Hunter's getting wind of a changed Winchester, and a member of a were clan, they'll all be out to get me. It's a lose/lose situation."

Greentree looked at Sam, almost sadly. "We will care for your brother. His hands and feet will stop bleeding once he learns to run patiently. He is our First Son, now. We will give him a home, find him a mate and he will be a powerful alpha and protector. And know that when you leave, you may never come back. Your brother will be among his own kind, and you will not be welcome here."

Two stocky men stood behind Raymond followed by three large wolves. 

"Stay or leave."

"Sammy, if it could be any other way…" Dean took in a breath. "You'll be safe. I'll be okay. Sam, go."

"I can't believe you're just giving up like this?" Sam shook his head. "It's supposed to be you and me against the world. Why aren't you even going to try?"

Dean stood. "I'm trying to give you a chance to leave." He sniffed up and down Sam's body. "Because if you don't go now, I won't be able to let you go." 

Sam shuddered as Dean's tongue grazed Sam's cheek. 

Susan Little Hare, who had been standing quietly by the window, hissed and spat at Dean. "No." Her claws appeared and she sneered, "I would be your mate."

Dean turned and stood protectively in front of Sam. "He is my family." 

"No," she repeated. "You wanted me." She went into a crouch, her dark eyes glowed as she looked at Dean, "And then you took me—twice. But now that your brother is here, you say that you don't want me anymore?" Her low voice turned to a throaty growl.

"I have always wanted only him."

She cast her eyes on Sam. "When I saw him, when I smelled him, I knew who Clear Blue Sky really wanted." She paced in a delicate circle. "But, if the younger brother is no longer breathing…" 

Dean's eyes blazed a golden-green fire and his fangs appeared. "Don't you dare touch him, Little Hare."

Quicker than Sam had ever seen, Susan lifted her head and bared her teeth, shifting into a sleek, black and gray wolf. She reared back on her powerful hind quarters and launched herself at Sam with her fangs aiming for his throat.

Sam was hit from behind and his head bounced on the floor. He was pinned to the ground with a heavy weight on his chest. A large, gold wolf with white paws and green eyes stood on him, growling deep and menacingly. 

In wolf form, Dean was ethereal in his beauty. 

Sam's eyesight wavered in and out, but it was clear that the black wolf wasn't backing down. She circled stealthily, biting and snapping almost teasingly at Dean's wolf's tail. Dean tolerated it once or twice, and then sprung off of Sam onto the black wolf's back.

She was fast. Susan threw Dean to the floor and clamped her jaws hard enough into the scruff his neck to draw blood. Dean howled and bucked to get away. The she-wolf held fast and shifted her jaws to Dean's windpipe, preparing to rip out his throat.

Sam spun around, looking for a weapon. He reached for the wooden bedside chair. Susan's wolf leapt off of Dean and hurtled toward Sam. Her bloody muzzle dripped Dean's blood. Sam crashed the chair down on the black wolf's back, but she shook it off, giving Sam a long, leering, bloody smile. 

Dean lay unmoving on the floor behind them. 

"Dean! Get up!" 

Instead of charging at Sam, Susan's wolf circled him, almost daintily. She swayed her hips and sashayed in front of him. She licked her muzzle and shook her head, coyly.

Sam backed away from her. Dean still hadn't moved, a pool of blood was spreading out beneath his head.

"Dean, _c'mon_ , man."

Little Hare had Sam cornered. She raised her head and howled in victory as she padded over to stand in front of Sam, who didn't even have a chair leg for a weapon. She sniffed his hair and licked his neck. She nudged Sam's head over to the side, cocked her head back and opened her jaws.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut as jagged teeth, sharp as daggers, sank into his neck at the shoulder. He expected it to hurt, and it did, but along with the pain, a liquid heat flowed into his veins. He could smell her musky wolf coat, the copper of Dean's blood and the telltale odor of rice and cornmeal left over from the last meal cooked in the small kitchen.

Sam's pulse raced with heat and strength and want. He reached back to his bloody shoulder and looked into the bright green eyes of the golden wolf that bit him. 

Little Hare's wolf screamed a furious high-pitched wail, but knew that whatever anger she held was useless, because once a mate was marked, it was hands-off. Weres mated for life. 

She howled again and bounded out of the cottage. 

Dean slowly shifted back, lying naked in Sam's lap. He was breathing hard and still bleeding from his neck wound; his eyes shining the bright green of his wolf. Sam put his arms around him, hugging him close. 

Dean turned into Sam's embrace. His shoulders shook as his arms came up to hide his face.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I couldn't control my wolf and he couldn't bear to see you with her." Dean's breath hitched and he made miserable, moaning sounds. "I turned you. Made you mine by force. I can never make that up to you."

He flung himself away from Sam, but not before Sam caught sight of Dean's thickening cock.

"You didn't force me. Not if the answer was always yes." Sam's blood was running hot and a salty sweat ran down his chest. The heat became unbearable and he tore off his shirt to cool down.

"Help me, Dean," Sam begged. Everything ached, too much sound, too many smells, and so, so hot. Sam roughly pulled off his jeans and underwear, kicking his shoes away until he lay panting naked on the floor. "I'm burning up."

That pulled Dean out of his stupor. 

"Easy, Sam. I'll take care of you. Lie still, close your eyes and take deep breaths, I'll be right back."

Sam took in air through his nose and blew it out of his mouth, concentrating on the act rather than the scent Dean left behind. His own cock stirred as he took in another deep breath. 

Cool water dripped on his face and a rough wet cloth rubbed across his chest. Dean murmured words of encouragement, "Shh, it'll be okay, it gets better, I promise. You'll be fine."

Dean's lips were close to Sam's right ear when he whispered, "Forgive me" and began trailing soft, sweet kisses down his cheek.

Sam sighed deep, his blood boiling as it ran through his veins.

When Dean licked his way over to the bite mark on Sam's neck, Dean made a low, rumbling growl. "Forgive me," he said, again, and bit almost viciously into the already healing wound. 

Sam whimpered as he grew hard, "Nothing to forgive." He felt his fangs cut the inside of his mouth. "I've always been yours." 

His body spasmed violently and his head spun. "Dean, what's happening?"

"You know what this is, you've seen this happen to me. Your wolf cannot be denied. Embrace him." Sam felt his leg bones crack and he screamed, his elbows snapped and the skin on his hands and feet split. Bronze colored fur pushed out from his skin and his muzzle formed from his broken cheeks. It was almost more than he could bear, but then he stretched, out, out, out, until the room grew bright and the new moon called for him.

"You are so gorgeous. You're powerful and so beautiful." Dean said, reverently. 

Sam wobbled as he stood on long, muscular front paws and powerful hind legs. 

Dean said, "You've got to go out there alone tonight." He ran his fingers through Sam's thick bronze and amber fur. "Don't worry, little brother. Your wolf knows what to do. But…try to start out slow." Dean pointed at his palms.

Sam whimpered and teetered again before finding his balance. Standing in front of his brother, Sam lowered his head, and licked Dean's face and neck before spinning around and bounding out the door.

The mild November breeze was no match for Sam's speed. Effortless and wonderful he tested his muscles and ran through the pitch dark prairies. The night was full of sounds, sharp and low, high and fierce. The scents of living and dying creatures, strange flora, and sweet, damp soil was like perfume to his newly honed sense of smell. The wind felt like silk and tasted like rain on his tongue. His eyesight perfect in the dim light.

Never had he felt so alive. Never before had he felt like one with the Earth and all there is. He was part of this great mystery, and he knew it. Sam raised his giant head to the sky and howled in triumph, screaming his joy and his thanks to the Great Father and the Glad Mother. 

If wolves could shed tears, Sam would be drowning in them. So great was his happiness in his new life. 

His new life.

With Dean. 

His idiot brother had apologized for giving him _this_.

Sam turned and shot across the open fields, into the marshes and through the woods. His breaths came in easy pants and his tongue lolled out of his open jaw. He ran faster into the mist, turning up his speed to full throttle. He scented the dormant November flowers under the frosty grasses, the rain that would fall before the next sunrise, and the raccoon under the hay that would soon become his next meal. 

As dawn broke, Sam skidded to a halt in front of the house where he left Dean. He stepped inside the open door, leaving bloody paw prints on the floor boards.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean was still on the floor, curled in a corner. He sounded wrecked. 

Sam couldn't have that, so he pounced nudging Dean, licking his face, nipping Dean's ears, until, "All right, all right, you mangy mutt. Get off of me." 

Sam jumped off, but kept one bleeding paw on Dean's chest. "You have to relax to shift back. It took me a while to figure that out. That's why I was gone so long when it first happened."

Sam shook his mane and yipped.

"I know, it's hard to settle down, especially after the first change." Dean stood and shook himself off and sat on the bed. Sam saw that Dean's teeth were still bloody from the claiming bite, and Sam growled as he advanced.

"Easy, Sam. You're gonna be tired, and your hands and feet are going to hurt, especially after your first run. Come up here with me." Dean patted the bed. Sam huffed and snorted until Dean coaxed him again.

"C'mon up. Sleep. You'll be okay in the morning. We'll talk about everything."

Sam eyed him warily.

"Don't worry, you'll be able to shift again. I'll even run with you next time." Dean patted the mattress again.

Sam leapt up and snuggled down next to Dean, his muzzle on Dean's chest. After several deep breaths, his arms and legs ached and his head hurt. His hands and feet felt raw, but he fell sound asleep to the beat of Dean's heart under his head.

~*~~*~~ 

When Sam woke, he felt warm, but nothing like the heat from the night before. A cool cloth lay on his forehead and a breeze from a fan blew across his naked body. Something warm and oily was being daubed between his toes, and his hands were wrapped in comfortable, soft cloth. His body ached, but only like he'd run for miles so it was a good hurt. 

He sniffed the air and recognized the fish oil and herbs he'd used on Dean's hands and feet. His hand immediately went to his neck, where the bite marks left by Dean's wolf's teeth were now raised and scarred welts. He hummed, contented, and fell back to sleep.

When next he awoke, a warm body lay up against his. Dean's soft snores were nothing new and even though they hadn't shared a bed in many years, the feel of Dean's sleep-warmed arms encircling his waist were comforting. 

It should have felt strange. It should have felt weird, but instead, Sam leaned in close to Dean's ear and whispered, "Dean?"

"Hmm?" Dean tightened his grip on Sam and snuggled in before snoring louder.

Sam sighed, burrowed down under the covers and in the circle of Dean's arms and fell into a dreamless sleep.

~~*~~*~~

Dean tore the sheet down from Sam's chin. 

"Rise and shine, Sam!"

"Dean, what the hell?"

Dean was dressed and shaved. In the trash next to the sink were slightly bloody bandages. Sam looked at his hands and saw nothing but clear skin. The memories were rising in his mind. The fight, the bite, the running, his wolf. 

"It was real, wasn't it? It all really happened."

"It really happened." Dean sat on the bed. "I just…I can't…"

Sam sat up. "Don't talk. Kiss me instead."

Dean growled. "I won't be able to stop." He dug his fingers into Sam's back, and hauled him closer. "The mating call is too strong. Maybe if I don't start..."

Sam lunged forward, "Then I will." He captured Dean's mouth with his, biting down on Dean's tongue before plundering his mouth.

"Dammit, Sam. I can't even feel guilty. I want you so much." He pulled Sam's head back by the hair and licked inside Sam's mouth. 

Sam pulled back, "And I'm really okay with that." He was naked and hard and nudged his cock against Dean's thigh. "Take your clothes off."

"Pushy bitch." Dean hauled off his jeans as Sam ripped the buttons off Dean's flannel shirt. 

Sam straddled him, effectively pinning Dean to the bed. "I'll show you whose bitch I am." He bent down, stretched his lips around Dean's cock and swallowed him down without preamble. 

"Shit, Sam, you're good at this," Dean panted. Sam's growls vibrated through Dean's hard-on. 

Dean moaned as his hands lowered to cup Sam's ass. Dean began fingering the furled opening and then moaned again. 

"Sam, stop, stop." He pushed back and quickly held onto the base of his erect and spit-soaked cock.

"What?" Sam panted, licking his swollen lips.

Dean held up a glistening finger. The one he'd just caressed Sam's hole with. "Looks like you're ready for me."

Sam reached his hand back and felt the slick that coated in between his cheeks and ran down his inner thighs. Instead of the embarrassment he thought he'd feel, he narrowed his eyes and purred. He had never been this turned on and this ready. He flipped himself over, climbed up on all fours and looked over his left shoulder leering at Dean.

Dean didn't need to be asked twice. "There's no going back now, Sam." Dean lined the blunt end of his dick to Sam's entrance. 

"Don't want to go back," Sam said. "Do it."

Dean bottomed out on the first push. Sam shuddered with the force, the intensity and the utter fullness of it. Dean started up a punishing pace pushing into Sam without pausing. Sam grunted and pushed back, matching Dean's thrusts stroke for stroke. 

Dean's hand snaked around Sam's waist and circled Sam's cock. With each pump of his hips, Dean stroked up and down with only sweat and friction. Sam howled out Dean's name as he came, clenching hard onto Dean's swollen dick. Dean shoved once, twice, three times before shouting out his climax. 

Dean pulled out and rolled over next to Sam. They lay there sated, wet and musky on top of the sheets. Then, Dean did something Sam never expected. He twined his fingers with Sam's and kissed each knuckle.

"We're in this together, now." 

"That's good because you're stuck with me." Sam shrugged. "But then, that's not news."

"We're also a mated pair now, and because I'm kind of a big deal around here, you're a big deal now, too. You are mated to the First Son."

"What does that mean for me?"

"We'll have to find out. But first…" Dean let go of Sam's hand and lightly rubbed his fingertips over the bright pink nub of Sam's right nipple. 

Sam sighed, happily, jumped up and straddled Dean's thighs. "But first?" Sam lifted himself up, "I'm going to take you on the ride of your life." 

Dean's eyes glowed green. He beamed an evil grin and said, "Do it."

~~*~~*~~

The moon was a soft, wet cloud in the dark December sky. They were a non-lunar mated couple and could change at will, but the moon held a special place in the brother's lives.

Clear Blue Sky knelt on the cold, hard stones in his human form alongside his mate. Their bodies touched and their fingers were twined together. 

In a clearing in the woods, Raymond Greendeer lit a fire in a clay chiminea. When the coals turned red, he added herbs, spices and other aromatic plants along with two silver rods. The hazy moon rose higher and the circle of wolves, and wolves in human form surrounded them. The cries of brother and sister wolves echoed in the distance.

Greendeer held his hands out, and his voice thundered. "Tonight, under Mother Moon's gaze, we welcome our First Son, Clear Blue Sky, to the Tipiuru'koke Wolf Clan." Wolf howls bayed into the night.

"Clear Blue Sky is the Son named for the daylight. Gaa'nisluté brings the Sun to the sky, and Clear Blue Sky is her champion. He is one with mother sun, brother sky and all the children of light."

Greendeer stroked Dean's hair before lifting Dean's face up to look at him. "The First Son will be marked and witnessed by all the Tipiuru'koke that no one shall disagree or question." 

Greendeer placed his thumb on the burning leaves and smudged Dean's cheeks, chin and eyelids. He withdrew one of the silver branding irons from the fire and pressed the red hot brand into the meat of Dean's right shoulder. When the skin sizzled, Dean squeezed Sam's hand and bowed his head. 

Howling reached a fever pitch and many of the humans shifted to their wolf form. 

Greendeer turned to Sam. "Good fortune smiled upon us when the First Son mated his brother, giving us our Second Son. Thus was created a powerful and holy combination, destined to hold our clan together for all the time of times, for the Second Son, The Black Wolf, is the Son of the Night.

"Pimacoda brings the darkness, and with her our most revered Moon Mother. As Clear Blue Sky belongs to Gaa'nisluté, you, Stars of Nightfall, are the Second Son, and one with Pimacoda, our Moon Mother, and the lights of all the heavens."

Greendeer tilted Sam's face up smudging Sam's forehead, nose and lips with the hot ash. He pulled the second iron from the fire. "You shall, too, be blessed and marked so that no one from the Tipiuru'koke Clan shall disagree or question." He branded Sam's left shoulder.

Sam began shaking and his eyes blinked uncontrollably. Stars of Nightfall reached his arms out to his night sky and tipped his head to Moon Mother. Standing beside him was Clear Blue Sky, in all his glory. Golden fur and milk-white paws, he stood majestically, waiting. 

Sam's bones broke and joints popped, but it wasn't painful anymore. Stars of Nightfall stretched out to his full length, shook his thick mane and took his place next to Sky.

Greendeer whooped and raised his arms, and hundreds of wolf cries echoed through the prairies. Clear Blue Sky raised his mighty muzzle and screamed at the moon, but Stars of Nightfall stood respectfully under the light of the Moon Mother until Sky nipped his tail and bolted into the woods.

Nightfall shook his head, zeroed in on Sky and shot after him.

And so, the Tipiuru'koke were twice blessed. Sky and Stars were guardians of their clan, fighting together, hunting things, and protecting their family as they were meant to do. Together and ever –for all the days of now and tomorrow.

~~finis~~

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I warmly thank [thruterryseyes](http://thruterryseyes.livejournal.com) for working with me, beta'ing for me, and creating such a beautiful banner for this story. She is truly a gift to this fandom.
> 
>  
> 
> _Links, because I always have them._  
> 
> 
> [Native American Languages](http://www.native-languages.org/languages.htm)
> 
> [Werewolves in Wisconsin](https://www.prairieghosts.com/werewolves.html)
> 
> [The origin of the Wolf Clan, Clear Blue Sky and his Brother the Black Wolf](http://www.mpm.edu/wirp/ICW-140.html#wolf). It's very short, so don't be afraid to go read it.


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